


Pie

by biblionerd07



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Emotional Constipation, Fallen Castiel, M/M, Macking in the Impala, Pie, Reminiscing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-12
Updated: 2014-05-12
Packaged: 2018-01-24 11:25:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1603448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/biblionerd07/pseuds/biblionerd07
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas tells Dean about the time he assaulted a teenager for pie, and Dean accidentally says, "I love you."  (What other response could he give at the thought of someone committing a misdemeanor to secure pie for him?)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pie

Years later—painful years, violent years, aching years—Cas and Dean pass a small market like the one by the bunker, and Cas huffs out his shy little laugh Dean’s been hearing more and more lately.

“What?” Dean asks, immediately glancing in the rearview mirror for a hint about what Cas found funny.

“Do you remember,” Cas starts, the way he always starts a story that inevitably involves something Dean couldn’t forget if he wanted to, and sure enough Cas continues, “When I came back to the bunker after running off with the angel tablet, before Metatron stole my grace?”

“No, Cas, I forgot.” Dean mutters with a roll of his eyes. For a second, Cas is going to explain what had happened before he realizes Dean is being sarcastic. He narrows his eyes but keeps talking.

“You were angry with me.” He reminds Dean.

“Well, Cas, you were going to kill me and then you disappeared and reappeared weeks later beaten and bloody.” Dean shoots back. “Forgive me.”

“I have.” Cas shrugs, not catching the sarcasm this time. “I wanted to make it up to you.” He goes on, not seeing how Dean’s eyes dart nervously at the words. “I went to that store by the bunker to buy things you like.”

Dean’s lips curl into a smile now. “Like what?” He asks.

“Beer.” Cas says with a tip of his head. “ _Busty Asian Beauties_. I tried to get pie.”

“They sold pie there?” Dean asks, momentarily losing the thread of the conversation at the mention of pie.

“They didn’t have any that day.” Cas frowns. “I may have…assaulted the worker in my haste.”

Dean roars with laughter. “You beat someone up because there was no pie? That’s very me, Cas.”

“It was _for_ you.” Cas corrects. “I didn’t beat him up. I just…roughed him up a little.” He tilts his head a little as he tries out the phrase and Dean laughs again.

“Well, it obviously didn’t work.” Dean points out teasingly. “Should’ve pulled out the angel mojo.”

“Metatron found me before I could.” Cas tells him quietly, and Dean’s grin slips a little. Metatron is not a name that can be said with a laugh. He made Cas human twice—once against his will and once because of it.

“Well.” Dean forces lightness into his tone. “We can get pie somewhere else.”

“That’s good.” Cas says seriously. “I don’t think they’ll want me to come back. I knocked over a shelf.”

“You knocked over a _shelf_?” Dean echoes, laughing incredulously. “Angel super strength, man, seriously.”

“It was poorly constructed.” Cas defends himself, and the snippiness in his tone makes Dean laugh harder. He gets a mental image of Cas tipping over a shelf that dominoes into another shelf and finds himself gasping for air through his peals of laughter. Cas is chuckling at Dean’s laughter, and Dean’s heart aches a little with how nice it is. He forgets for a minute that Sam left once heaven and hell were closed and that he hasn’t called in weeks; he forgets for a minute that Cas fell, again, so Dean wouldn’t be alone; he forgets for a minute the murderous rage that coursed through him when he bore the Mark of Cain and the screams of pain from both of them as Cas pulled it off him. Most of all, he forgets for a minute to be careful with his words and careful with his eyes and careful with his touches and he reaches out and touches Cas’s thigh and gasps,

“Man, I love you.”

The laughter stops, and Dean feels Cas’s leg tense beneath his hand. He curses himself internally. This wasn’t fair of him to do, not to Cas—Cas who had stayed with him through everything, Cas who had died for him more than once, Cas who reminds him to be patient with Sam because space is good for both of them but Sam isn’t abandoning him. Dean’s seen the expression in Cas’s eyes he tries to hide; Dean knows how Cas feels. The air in the car grows heavy.

“Cas…”

“It’s okay.” Cas cuts him off. “I know what that expression means.” And he shifts his leg away from Dean’s hand, and the loss and the sadness in Cas’s voice make Dean angry.

“It’s not an expression.” Dean all but shouts, and Cas purses his lips but looks out the window.

“It is to me.” He says quietly, and Dean pulls off to the side of the road roughly, jerking the steering wheel harder than he should, twists quickly to look at Cas.

“It was a shitty thing for me to say.” Dean says furiously. “But it doesn’t mean—damn it, Cas, just because it’s not like—”

“I know, Dean.” Cas interrupts him again. “Not romantically.”

Dean can’t pinpoint the emotion that goes through him when he hears Cas say that, when he sees the bitterness in Cas’s eyes. All he knows is he has to _fix it_ , and suddenly he is across the seat and grabbing Cas’s face and kissing him. Cas shoves him away and glares so furiously Dean thinks Cas might still be able to smite him after all.

“Don’t.” Cas growls. “Don’t you _dare_.” He slams his fist against the dashboard. “That isn’t fair.”

Dean gapes, trying to think of some way to explain himself, but he comes up empty, and Cas is grinding his teeth angrily and breathing hard and Dean’s lips itch for Cas’s.

“I want this.” Dean croaks, and he thinks Cas is going to punch him instead of the dashboard this time.

“I will not take your pity.” Cas spits. “I thought you respected me more than this.”

“ _Cas_.” Dean groans, and he thinks he might need to sit on his hands to stop from grabbing at Cas. It’s like he flipped a switch—one touch and he’s gone, has to have more. He sees something flickering in Cas’s eyes, hope maybe, before Cas turns away again, biting his lip so hard Dean worries he’s going to break through and then _Oh, God_ , Dean is considering biting that lip himself.

“Cas.” He repeats, his voice scraping the bottom of his register, and he lets his hand slide slowly up Cas’s thigh, feels Cas shudder, and he moves his other hand to tentatively cup Cas’s jaw, feels the tense muscle jumping there.

“Dean.” Cas whispers, and then it’s a flurry of movement and lips and tongues and teeth and it’s not gentle but it’s everything Dean’s imagined and somehow better.

“We should’ve done this sooner.” Dean murmurs, forehead resting against Cas’s.

“You weren’t ready.” Cas says simply, and Dean kisses him again, drinks him in, until Cas pulls back.

“What?” Dean asks.

“I think we should wait until we get home.” Cas tells him, eyes dark, and Dean doesn’t need to be told twice. His heart is pounding in anticipation, his palms are sweating, he thinks he’s going to have a heart attack.

“Wait!” Cas cries, making Dean jump. Dean pulls off the road again, exasperated.

“What?” He growls.

“We have to get pie first.” Cas reminds him.

They don’t wait until they get home.


End file.
